


Stranded

by meikahidenori



Series: Classic Thunderbirds stories [2]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Aliens, Angst, Attempted Suicide, Gen, Loss, Mars, POV Experimental, Redemption, Strength, Thunderbirds - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meikahidenori/pseuds/meikahidenori
Summary: This is an event in my brother John's life as well as some others in our own around a time where he was considered 'missing in action".Turns out, he was stranded on Mars.This is the story that went untold.- Alan TracyWARNING: contains mentions of attempted suicide for two characters.





	1. Forward - Alan Tracy

**Author's Note:**

> Before anyone asks - in one of the annuals it states John and Gordon are the same age (22) which is what I'm going with in the fiction (I usually do anyway if you know how I write Classic) but due to birthdays the only way that physically works is by Gordon being 8 months and a bit older therefore for my purposes makes John second youngest. I hope that clears up any confusion.
> 
> If you want to get SUPER TECHNICAL, some annuals don't have the birthdays therefore making them twins - and some state John is older than Gordon or Virgil. There is also an instance on a Matchbox collectable set where John is same age as Alan, meaning there was a great deal of confusion as to who was what aged sibling, making any real combination canon as long as you mention which one your going with.
> 
> Unlike the entire situation we have with TAG where ITV stated John to be second oldest which is 100% debunked as of Grandma Tourismo where in the episode John calls Virgil big brother making it canon that he is the middle child - and making any Pre or current working progress s2 fictions 100% AU. Funny as it sounds so far all external media involving TAG has had mistakes and errors in as bad as the old Thunderbirds annuals did creating some amazing conflicts. Keeping up the tradition of miss information are we?
> 
> It's fun being a wiki editor. *laughs*

_This is the biographical journal extracts written and recorded by my older brother, John Tracy, the first human to live and survive on mars._

_My sibling - as the whole world is aware of right now - has been very withdrawn and closed off about the events that lead him to being trapped on the red planet for many years and while now he is married with children, has finally allowed me the privilege after years of trying to hide from the media, the right to publish the facts from his perspective without people trying to ‘fabricate’ these matters._

_My brother at the time of his eventual discovery was in a very fragile state of mind and in a way, still is about the entire affair as it occurred at a time in his life where things for him were - how can I put this - falling apart. Trying to pick through these has been quite an affair to say the least and has defiantly earned my brother far more respect from not just myself, but our other siblings as sometimes the bravest people are those who go unheard and keep trying to soldier on._

_John’s journals do tend to get very dark and while I know him not to be a very melancholy person (in fact he’s very cheerful despite his shyness) this was a side to him that should have been expected, even if our father's decisions in his job profession were only done with good intentions but from John’s ( And in many cases mine too) point of view they were pretty detrimental to his mental well being._

_On that note, any key events; however personal or public they maybe, I will fill the details in forthwith so you know the context of things happening outside of his little bubble of ‘hell’ - as he himself has described it on more than one occasion. If things look like they're going south, I'll do my very best to jump ahead but you need to understand my brother was in a very ‘dangerous’ state of mind a few times during this ordeal._

 

_And now, I present to you my brother's journal's, even if it's a little edited for your pleasure to read._

 

_Yours truly,_

_Alan Tracy._

 


	2. Struggling with Exile

Dec 23rd, 2069

I'm not quite sure how long I have spent pacing up and down the main communications room after father's last video call. Seething mad isn't exactly the description I’d use for how I feel but it's pretty darn close.

This will be my fifth Christmas without seeing my family.

I don't really understand the reasons behind it however right this second, I don't care. I have been up here the past fifteen months without a day's break and I swear if I don't touch terra firma just for a beer and a chin wag with someone face to face I'll go crazy.

Video and holocalls don't replace physical interaction no matter how you put it.

I grip my arms on the gravity unit and glare at the system through its clear perspex long enough to at least stop seeing red, sadly watching the machinery breath life into the station doesn't cure it entirely and has always reminded me of my brother Gordon’s horrific accident.

I swear father prefers Penny over his own son.

_(This is in fact untrue, however I don't blame John for feeling like this. I usually spend a month long shift up there to give him a break but unfortunately due to our eldest brother Scott’s wedding to Lady Penelope happening around this time, no one remembered to let John in on this information thus leading to a major animosity towards the english socialite - that still exists even now though he is very careful not to voice around her and her husband._

_As for our brother Gordon, John and he are very close, when at home they were never really out of each other's company. It's like living with twins despite the eight month age difference between them. Gordon was involved in a horrendous accident involving a hydrofoil underwater craft while he was working in the World Aquanaut Security Patrol and John practically dropped everything with his internship at Nasa and his university studies to sit by his bed side every waking hour he got. Life may have taken them down different paths from time to time but they've never truly been separated for longer than maybe a year.)_

It's not as if I've done anything wrong, I pull my weight as much as the rest of my siblings though granted my skills in a rescue may not be at the same standard, however there are times you need words just as much as being a action hero and that is something I'm good at.

_(He isn't wrong there. John’s job requires a lot of emotional understanding and counseling when certain calls come through that the rest of us are unable to provide, or at least, provide for long. How he continues to do so is beyond my understanding but maybe that's for the best. He is an unqualified grief counselor and let's be brutally honest here - he makes those who are look like unhelpful psychiatrists.)_

I need to calm down, this isn't me. Besides, I'm only angry because I miss real food cooked on a barbeque and the summer warmth… and a few minutes basking in it while floating peacefully on the pool’s relaxing surface.

I sigh, taking a deep breath and head up the ladder that leads to the central dome of the space station hoping to find something to take my mind off going for an impromptu space walk without a helmet just to get a point across. There's little else to do really besides playing chess against a computer program I designed, to the point where I can still beat it even when it cheats.

I run my fingers against the cold brass of the magnificent telescope in the center and consider for a moment what a shame it is that it cannot talk. Though what would you say to such a powerful piece of equipment? Doesn't matter when it can show you many wonders of the universe.

...And remind me that instead of being a duty monitor on a stationary station with artificial gravity on twenty four hours a day I passed up a real opportunity to be a astronaut exploring the deepest reaches of space.

_(I feel I should mention my brother was chosen to be head communications and engineering technician onboard Project Eden before our brother Gordon’s accident and then declining when our father asked us all to join his ‘little project’ . Like all of us, John wanted to give back to society and this looked like a great opportunity to do so. If John knew it would have bored him senseless he probably would have said no to this job. Lucky for us he didn't join Project Eden otherwise we wouldn't have had a hope in hell saving it's crew a year later.)_

You know, the more I waste time up here trying to stimulate my brain and avoid stupid thoughts, the more I regret my decision. Hindsight is a horrible thing at times.

The upside to being here though is how unlike the rest of Thunderbird Five, it's quiet. No whirring of machinery, no whispering voices or creaking metal. Utter, pure silence.

_(No, my brother isn't losing his sanity here - we have specialist equipment that scans dozens of radio languages and signals from across the globe to find distress calls and BOY, it's like fingers down a chalkboard ALL THE TIME. Sure, it is only in the two communications rooms that it can be heard, however even after a short month long shift you begin to hear it EVERYWHERE. The fact my brother was up there months at a time he either found a way to tune it out of his head when in that one area of the station or the solitude could get too much and the scratchy sound of billions of human voices brought some sort of comfort. It's hard to tell as he hates it, but also strangely misses it.)_

The stars, as always are beautiful, burning dying lights of gases and other chemical compounds and like I've said before, never any less magical. They are truly spectacular when your encased by them around you like a silvery blanket.

The Earth… now in all it's magnificent glory spins ever so slowly in it's axis and when places are indeed in the nighttime you can see the clusters of lights from some if the more bigger cities. It never ceases to amaze me how ‘centralized’ our own colonization of the planets continent's are - specifically created biodomes (I think he means cities here) we need in order to survive.

If only there was someone to share it with.

Staring off idly into the universe tends to put things into perspective. Hey… what's that on the horizon? 

Hmm.

_(It's at this point my brother stopped his personal diary entry and I had to ask him why. He directed me to a few of the recordings of the day but one specific one I myself had missed involving the initial hailing of the incoming vessel he could see incoming towards the station from Earth. The fact he fails to mention this is typical - John is not used to people expecting him to detail his thoughts or actions as until now, no one has really cared and these journals were just enough to help keep a bit of sanity. The other is John never really looked at it much from the outside until, well...you'll find out. So we'll just skip along to the printed extract of the outgoing call to the incoming ship.)_

**IR SSTB5:This is International Rescue calling unidentified generational ship_ _You are on a collision course with our space station_ Please redirect your orbital trajectory_I Reapet_ Please redirect you course and change your orbit_**

***static over communication bandwidth_audio malfunction***

***Holopad key input_Searching for ship identification_**

***Ship identified as the GSS Andromeda_Unfinished build**

**IR SSTB5: Incomplete build? What's an unfinished starship doing all the way out here and not in a starport?**

***Communication command prompts channel reopned_**

**IR SSTB5: I repeat, this is International Rescue, calling whomever may be in charge of the generation ship Andromeda, please change your orbital trajectory to avoid a collision course!**

***static over communication bandwidth_audio malfunction***

**IR SSTB5: looks like I'm going to have to pay you a visit before we have ourselves an accident.**

_(My Brother starts to rattle of some other procedures that are mandatory before we go out on a rescue or investigate a situation, so I have to cut the audio log there. However I should mention one very important one that involves a distress beacon that is triggered after a specified length of time if the duty monitor fails to return to their post. This is to prevent accidents if we're outside the station doing external maintenance and get rescued before we hopefully run out of oxygen. A vital procedure in practice that's saved my own hide on one occasion.)_

 


	3. A stolen scrap heap

_The GSS Andromeda was Nasa’s second attempt at building an interstellar craft and had begun construction in the late 2067 in a little spaceport located near the great hulking mass of metal, the International Space Station ‘Global One’. Like it's predecessor - Project Eden - the ship was going to be built to sustain a small colony and allow them to set up base camp on another planet, this time specifically on Mars. The ship was two thirds complete when it was hijacked by some ‘nutters’ who had somehow managed to pass themselves off as Nasa engineers to get access to the massive vessel._

_No one quite knew why it had been stolen however evidence weeks later surfaced that they were linked to a religious cult who believe humanity was bringing the destruction of the world with our fascination with the search for alien life._

_We discussed this between ourselves and both Scott and myself believe them to also have been the same group who tried to blow up and kill everyone on Eden back when we first started International Rescue. Our first massive rescue involving all of us to evacuate the entire vessel without the loss of any lives._

_That rescue was also only possible due to John’s intimate knowledge of the craft since he was originally chief of communications during its construction and wouldn't have been possible if he took the job the offered him on board as head engineering technician as when the ship had exploded - the quarters that he would have been in was entirely vaporized - the terrorist had somehow swapped places with the guy who was supposed to be there, the real head engineering technician was still on Global One, found dead in his own quarters on board the station._

_My brother, to this day credits the lack of setup Andromeda had for his survival. It's hard to believe a semi-built space ship would be capable of keeping someone alive, John does explain it all a bit later -so he promises me- so I'll have to take his word for it._

 


	4. Trouble onboard the Generation Ship

_(I've had to do a tidy up of a International Rescue rescue log entry here as John’s space suits communication relay tends to fill the audio with a lot of jargon - Brains had never had the proper chance to test it forcing me to remove all of it - and I've had to ask John for a few extra details here and there to give this a fair bit more readability_.)

**INTERNATIONAL RESCUE INVESTIGATION LOG ENTRY_personnel at attendance_JOHN TRACY_IRSSTB5**

Right, so that's that I think. I've never had to set up an investigation log before, especially on this new system Brains devised. He really should have got me or Virgil to program the damn thing since making things simple is a bit of a sore point with anything he tends to make. When he does simple, he does bare bones functionality which is far more of an inconvenience than it sounds. 

Anyway, it's more of a case of evidence if I come across anything suspicious, after the Eden incident you can NEVER be too careful.

Ok, time to get into that airlock. I don't have much time.

I bash the keypad in the air lock before giving in and pulling out my molten heat laser _(a hand held cutting tool that's like a small torch that fires, you guessed it, lasers that can melt the toughest metal and my personal favorite tool in my tool belt)_ and cut my way through, kicking the remains of the hatch free to get inside. Luckily for now my maintenance pod is connected over the hole otherwise we’d have some serious vacuum to contend with at the speed this thing is traveling.

As I suspected, the insides look as unfinished and as bashed together as the outside, a huge chunk of flying debris. I need to get to the front of the ship to see if I can steer it, a bigger task than I assumed it would be. I suspect some sort of automated test flight malfunction, that seems highly likely given the state of incompleteness of the vessel.

This place brings back some memories, some good, some pretty graphic. The unfinished state with the exposed piping and cabling as I go through the winding corridors give me some vivid reminders of Eden, when I was helping with construction and also dealing with the evacuation with my brothers a year later. They don't come in a coherent sense, just bits here and there as I pick my way through the mess. The upside however is this craft isn't far off the last one's schematics so the treck to the cockpit isn't a hassle involving me opening every hatchway I come across along the way, keeping areas that could potentially be a hazard to my immediate health closed just incase they are not fully constructed.

I’m suspiciously aware this ship is in no condition for a test flight, even if it's to test for flaws in it's systems. Besides, Nasa would have had a emergency protocol for that scenario - That I'm fully certain.

So, we can't rule out ‘sabotage’ then.

Reaching the cockpit, I can see how close this thing is to impact so I don't hesitate to get into the pilot's seat and shove my hands into the steering controls which are these lid grip looking things since it's supposedly easier to control _(I sense a bit of sarcasm, because my brother HATES this sort of unresponsive control scheme, saying it's fiddly and unnecessary - though our brother Gordon swears by it as once his Aquatic craft was fully fitted with a similar control set up he said he has never looked back)_ but they seem to be stuck. Even Virgil and his muscles of steel couldn't turn these things!

I feverishly dart my hands around for the switches to unlock them, swearing aloud as some of the switches I'm flipping don't seem to be connected to where they are supposed to in the main control system. How the heck am I supposed to control this thing!? We're close to full impact!

Getting up and pulling a loose panel from the back of the cockpit reveals wires everywhere in the wrong connection ports and clear indication that someone wanted this ship to move in a hurry. I don't pay it any attention as priority right this second involves rearranging everything for a master reboot of the systems just to be able to steer. As it sparks back into life with all the correct lights and sounds of a functional machine I return to the pilot seat and my heart leaps knowing that as of now I have gained full control of the vessel, which is more than I can hope for.

“Ok you great big fat ugly wallowing princess, let's see how well you move for Johnny.”

_(Oh! So THAT'S WHY John calls Penelope ‘princess’! I should have figured since he never calls his wife of his two daughters it, even if it sounds like endearment. I know now it's supposed to be an insult...let's hope Penny and Scott never work that out!)_

I can feel the lumbering craft shifting under my control, even if it's far more sluggish than Thunderbird Three is to fly -granted that craft is damn fast once it's broken out of earth's atmosphere - and try to fly it over the top of the space station in some pretty evasive maneuvers, something this big was never really designed to do even with plenty of room to move and holy heck we've made contact with apart of the station somewhere as the entire cockpit is wailing and impact lights are flashing everywhere. There's a hull breach to the craft somewhere so hopefully the Nasa people I know don't mind having to fix that after I return this puppy home.

_(I would like to mention John’s duty monitor absence beacon had gone off prematurely at this point due to the impact - the damage to Thunderbirds Five sending hundreds of emergency alarms off back home. Suffice to say when we arrived on scene the cause of the impact was long gone, along with the entire glass dome and the old telescope. Because we had no idea where John was on the station at the time of impact we tried to locate him in hopes he was somewhere alive amongst the debris. We knew he was alive as his suit was still providing us with vital signs but after days of searching without any sign we had to give him up for dead - or at least, missing in action despite the suit still proving us with signs of life. At that point we assumed the suit had a fault but Gordon flat out refused to believe John was gone - saying if he was he would have felt it, the same way John had an inkling about Gordon when he had his accident. Thinking he was dead started to tear us apart as a family - Gordon having the worst of it. Like I said - they act like twins - they don't function well when they know that something is wrong with the other.)_

I figure I better radio the station so that whoever responds at least knows that I’m alive and not sucked into the black oblivion of space and returning Nasa property when something skims the side of my helmet and fries a chunk of the control panel in front of me.

Bugger! That small victory lapsed my judgment for a few minutes - I forgot about the entire possibility this craft was sabotaged and possibly stolen!

I dive off the seat for the cabin floor as another laser bolt was fired, missing me but it's impact against the controls melted the system meaning there was no way this ship was going to be controllable anymore. So much for flying it back to Nasa.

My attacker reaims and I make a lunge for him. Those laser pistols take a bit to recharge so I only have a few seconds to grab his arm, redirect his next shot and knock him to the ground, disarming him. He could have shot me dead I know, but there was little room in the cockpit to duck and weave another bolt. I'm lucky his aiming skills are as terrible as mine, though I do wish I carried my own as an afterthought but I do have something far better.

I aim my molten heat laser cutter at him and as he smirks and tries to make a grab for the pistol I fire the cutter and catch his hand, removing a few fingers, leaving him screaming and in pain on the deck. I should have some feelings of mercy but since he tried to kill me I stand firm. Next shot will be the entire arm gets lopped off.

I maybe holding him at the point of a over glorified laser pointer, but he better thank his lucky stars that it's me holding it and not some random nutter.

_(John has, for the most part, done all the gun training we have but has never in his life been able to pull the trigger. Considering he has never needed to either until this point, he's done quite well just using whatever he has at his disposal. Trust me when I say he is the only brother I have who can throw a monkey wrench with precision and have it miss your face by a precise fraction of an inch. Lucky for our ‘friend’ here John didn't aim that thing at his neck, as those laser cutters can do a super neat and clean job of removing the blemish called a head off one's shoulders with no blood whatsoever as it instantly cauterizes wounds. Clearly my nervous brother was feeling generous, none of us would have been.)_

There's a clatter coming from the corridor leading into the cabin and the expression of relief on the man infront of me is enough to signal a warning he has a mate on board. Just as the new arrival appears, I've already started to swing the metal panel I removed earlier and hit the thief before scraping past them and sprinting as fast as I can down the twisting corridors of pipes and cables, laser bolts at my heels. 

As I reach the sealed door before the section my Pod is located, the moment I open the hatch the air rushes out pulling me with it. I grab for anything that will stop me being sucked out into oblivion and grip an exposed pipe, scrambling to get at my tool belt for the grapple cable to secure a safety line back into the open corridor of the ship. 

My Pod and the entire section of the ship are gone. When I clipped Thunderbird Five I did far more damage than I first realised.

Luckily, I have quite alot of experience accidentally shunting myself into the void of space so being able to get back inside quickly - while difficult - is at least physically possible and something I know is completely doable if you're prepared.

Something my pursuers are not.

Robes and limbs few passed me at incredible speed, heck even if they could get a hold, they would have been dead without any access to air. It's not a sight you see everyday and not one you want to either. Thank cripes I have my helmet and an air tank attached to this suit.

I start the slow struggle of getting back to safety against the rush of suction and don't stop until the door is sealed shut behind me. 

Oh hell, I can't stop shaking. Not only was that close, but I got a full first hand view of how fast the craft was now and what's going to happen to me if I try and eject an emergency pod.

Well that section of the ship is off limits, however I'm now trapped on a ship hurting towards a planet with no means of getting off it. Once we're stuck in the planets gravity there's no hope of getting out in a pod unless I want to be fried alive.

Trust me when I say I smell terrible barbecued.

_(insert my brother's wonderful blunt sense of humor, how he and Gordon get on so well can mystify me sometimes. I guess one of them had to be the straight man in the pair)_

There's one chance, however small, that may be my way of surviving the impending impact with the planet below. In the words of my favorite author Terry Pratchett **‘it's a million to one chance, but million to one chances crop up nine times out of ten.’**

Let's hope it crops up for me.

I locate the crew quarters deck and make a guess as the where the direct center room is and lock myself inside. It's cramped, barely furnished but above all, sealed.

I crawl under the bed hoping if any debris comes off the roof of the cabin I'll have some shielding and wait.

Please, don't let this be my last ever mission, or that phone call be my last ever home. I don't want to be remembered as the failure of the family.

 


	5. Unexpected Loss

_Now I briefly mentioned it before but I feel I should explain what went on from the homefront. Alarms had gone off throughout the house throwing us all into a panic. Dad checked his office and got a shock when he saw John's portrait smashed on the floor, having fallen from its place like a bad omen. The television screen that was left behind on the wall had the emergency beacon signal activated and Dad was frozen staring with his eyes wide, his brain trying to work out what was going on. Before any of us could get into his office, dad came charging out for the sofa and activated the switch for it to start descent for Thunderbird Three’s silo, shouting at us, “What are you waiting for? Hurry up!”_

_If our dad was rushing to respond, then this was no ordinary rescue._

_We got no briefing or any indication of what was going on even as we suited up and launched the deep space rocket, though looking over at Gordon I could tell something dangerous was lurking behind those amber eyes._

_“Something's happened to John.”_

_Those words burned deep with dripping malice. Earlier in the day he had an argument with dad about John missing out on Christmas again. He even volunteered to go up and spend it with him on the station if it was so important for him to be there._

_Scott’s wedding was preventing our usual shift changes due to so many visitors to the Island and Gordon was disgusted that John was being made to suffer because of it. He couldn't even have his usual weekly brotherly chat and that probably upset Gordon more._

_“Dad won't say it, but I can feel it. He's in trouble.”_

_If Gordon could be so sure of it, then you knew it was true. Heck John was exactly the same before we found out about Gordon’s accident. Sometimes they had this weird ‘sixth sense’ about each other which could get borderline supernatural, which is why coining it ‘twincense’ is highly appropriate despite them not being twins._

_As we advanced in the space station, you could tell something had gone horribly wrong. Before we could get close to see what it was we stopped to collect what was left of Thunderbird Five's maintenance pod._

_It looked like someone had taken a large wrecking ball to it and tried to tear it open like a tin of fruit._

_Virgil confirmed there was no sign of blood in the wreckage and that the airlock was open, suggesting John wasn't inside it but it was indeed in use. That would have been good news if it wasn't for the carnage we were graced with the closer to the station we became._

_If John had still been onboard or outside of it somewhere…_

_Dad was leaning over Scott’s shoulder as he scanned for life signs. They couldn't seem to locate any despite signals coming from John's space suit indicating the clear opposite. Frowning, dad ordered Scott and Virgil to accompany him on a station wide search._

_I should have expected it, Gordon snapping and demanding he go on the search party too. Dad remained firm and even Virgil had to physically swing my shortest sibling out of the way so he could leave ._

_I was quick to grab Gordon’s arm as they filed out and the look he gave me would have melted lead. I suggested one last look at the pod, just encase Virgil missed something. Grumbling, he agreed as even he knew if the pod was floating so far out from the station, something else was going on at the time of impact as it was something that couldn't be undocked from Thunderbird Five without a pilot to steer it._

_We went to investigate down in the cargo hold, though I don't know how much more we could elaborate on Virgil’s earlier assessment however Gordon was the only other person who knew how to operate the maintenance pod and may be able to find something Virgil missed._

_That Gordon did. He found evidence the pod was docked against another airlock and since Thunderbird Five doesn't have any external ones, it had to be connected to another ship. That and the lock grapples were twisted, so that it had been torn off whatever it had been attached to. I asked if he was sure and yes, Gordon was one hundred percent certain John was not even remotely onboard the station upon impact._

_If that was the case, then where was he?_

_All signs pointed to another craft...but where was it?_

_We were all set to tell the others when they reboarded but the grave look on both our brother's faces and the stony expression on dad made us silent. I know it was wrong to hold this back from him in the long run but we also knew what would happen if we dare opened our mouths without the solid proof to back up another ship in the vicinity._

_Gordon didn't like the idea of having to pretend John was dead till we found more evidence however having me on his side was more than worth the mask he had to hide behind just a little bit longer._

_Talking to dad later that night though…_

_He confided in me when we were alone at the kitchen table that he didn't want this to happen, nor face the fact he just lost one of us. He gave John that position because he was smart and not because he thought he was unhelpful to the organization. He was busy with Brains designing new systems for Thunderbird Five that would radically make John’s job more tactile and hands on as he said himself, he can't run International Rescue forever and as much as he trusted my three eldest brothers, John was the least reckless and could think a situation through, making him perfect to take that role too._

_After Scott’s wedding to Penelope, dad had plans for us and plans to give us full control of International Rescue, with John at the helm of it._

_The station needed a full rebuild of course and that takes time - time that was currently being used elsewhere._

_He then opened his photo wallet and hidden behind the electronic picture of John that linked to Thunderbird Five, dad removed an old photograph that had been taken in a hospital._

_It was the first time I had ever seen a picture of my father holding one of us as a baby._

_“John’s only baby picture,” he said, sadly. The only picture your mother had to take because I was recovering from a Nasa training accident. The stress of your brothers and me being on death's door sent your poor mother into labour early.”_

_“The only reason I didn't give up fighting my injuries was because of the same fight your brother was giving to stay alive. If such a tiny newborn child could do it, then so could I. If it wasn't for him, I don't think I would have pulled through and you wouldn't have been born the following year. I owe your brother a lot.”_

_“Did you ever tell him this dad?”_

_“No.” I watched my old man shake his head as a tear landed on the photograph. “I wish now that I had.”_

 


	6. Million to one chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't seemto remember my imur password and it won't send it to my email address. So when I figure it out, I'll attach pictures.

I think, I think I may have passed out somewhere.

I shift from my position wedged under the cabin bed, stumbling as I stood, shaken and aching all over. That is not one adventure I plan in having again in future.

I check myself over. A few tears in my suit, oxygen seems ok. Depending on the atmosphere I may be able to do away with the suit if I need to move around.

It's impressive the cabin held. Sure there was damage like an earthquake had hit but not much sign of a ship being peeled open upon impact with a planet.

Which is useful. A sealed shelter from whatever maybe outside, that is, if I can continuously pump oxygen around it.

Whew! It's warm and stuffy in here. Maybe if I step outside a minute -

I wrestle open the airlock as without power it's heavy to shift but cutting it open would defeat the purpose of using it as a proper shelter later.

Squeezing myself through a small gap, I step into what remains of the corridor which looks mostly intact as well as the cabin across from where I hunkered myself in. That's also handy, I have another place to convert into something liveable if we get that far. The rooms on either side though look like Godzilla himself had gone on a rampage so I was extremely lucky my ships knowledge was better than I expected.

Out in the open, the heat hit back hard. There is no way I can survey damage or scavenge anything from the debris without cooking myself alive in my space suit.

I hold my breath after I duck back into the shade of the wreak as I remove my helmet and pick it apart so the mouthpiece for oxygen is all that's left and secure it and took a deep breath in relief. 

I stripped my suit down to my waist so I'm in my T-shirt before stepping out into the heat again. It's only so hot due to how thin the atmosphere is here compared to earth as being further from the sun the daylight hours are a little shorter but boy that doesn't make any difference to how harsh it is out here in the open.

Looking back at the wreckage it's like stepping away from a plane crash in the middle of the Gobi Desert, minus the plant life and underground water supply. Despite being barren landscape, there is little to no sand… just a lot of rock.

This may have to be home for a while, that is if I can make it habitable. It could be worse, I could be injured and forced into dying a slow death being unable to fend for myself. It's possible I will still suffocate, starve or dehydrate before I'll even get a distress signal going but it's a death within my control if I'm not complacent and stupid.

Still, hope springs eternal. That's what I do right? Only this time it's positive thinking for my own survival.

First things first. Oxygen. Food and water aside, I can't live very long if I cannot breathe. So, where to start?

Scanning my surroundings I can see some more of the wreckage that looks salvageable until my eyes spot something on the horizon.

It's one of the ships escape pods. With any luck it will have more than just rations inside I can use.

It's a slog to walk towards it despite the ease of the lighter gravity here on the surface, the dry heat sucking all the energy out of me. I wish I wasn't skinny and boney, but then if I had either Virgil’s or Gordon’s muscle mass I'd be worse off - the heat would be harder to cope with.

Upon reaching the escape pod, I can see it's more damaged than I first suspected. The ejector engines are mangled and only one of it's spare oxygen tanks is usable.

There is however, a working battery, new wires and a bin containing rations of at least a weeks supply of dried food like nuts, oats and dried fruit and a canteen of water. I realised suddenly that staying hydrated will be my next major challenge - the rations I can stretch out until the next pod I find or the lab parts of the ships wreckage may contain more food if I'm lucky but water is going to be one impossible task to keep stretched out on for long periods here. I mean I can create my own water supply through basic science but that still requires air humidity and I suspect that's going to be difficult to come by.

Need to focus, one problem at a time John, I remind myself. Breathable air comes first.

There is a lot of other stuff I can use in here too so leaving anything behind is out if the question. How to get it all back to the main wreckage will not be the most graceful thing I'll ever do and and more damage could render useful parts unsalvageable. I set about disconnecting the battery and securing it, the oxygen tank and spent a good hour trying to carefully pry the solar panel free - breaking it would prevent me from keeping the battery charged and that would be a mistake I can do without. 

Once I'm satisfied I push the side of the pod to get it rolling in the direction of my new home.

Ok maybe I really should think about building some muscle once this missadventure is over. It's heavy and is taking a lot of energy I'm struggling to maintain to get it moving. Its exhausting, but we get it to our destination eventually.

It had also become a drain on my oxygen, the heavy breathing and increased intake I had to do leaving very little left by the time I'm back in some shade.

But there isn't time to waste on rest. I need to get my hands dirty.

_(Some of the audio here I'm going to skip as John is starting to swear and this goes on for at least five hours worth, with a pause to change his oxygen tank. My brother doesn't usually swear but I think not mentioning his frustrating time would be a lie. )_

Here goes nothing.

I flick the switch and the machine I've assembled starts chugging to life and I monitor my suit for and sign the oxygen level in the sealed cabin changes. I did have to cut a hole in the roof to secure the solar panel to collect light so fingers are crossed that I haven't created a leak that will possibly kill me overnight with the planets gases. Best part about adjusting settings on the heat laser, it can double up as a welding tool.

Boys and girls, we have RECIRCULATING OXYGEN! 

I'm actually beside myself, jumping around excitedly like a two year old who's just discovered ice cream. I can finally remove this oxygen tank from my back and the mask from my face and breathe without feeling restricted.

I drop all the gear unceremoniously and flop back on the poor excuse for a bed in the cabin. For now, suffocation is no longer an issue. That's something to be excited about.

No time for a long break though, while the design is still fresh in my mind I better make some adjustments to my air tanks. If I can get them to convert the Mars gases into oxygen I won't need to rely on an air tank unless it's for a back up. That will make exploring the rest of the scattered wreckage easier for me when I need to venture for water.

As I sit up and start working on a traveling oxygen converter and let my mind wander, thinking about what they'd all be doing right now at home getting ready for Christmas day. Scott and his ‘princess’ hogging the mistletoe, Virgil setting fire to something in the garden by putting too much stuff on the barbecue and Brains trying to put it out along with Parker, Gordon chasing Alan around the pool with seaweed from the beach, dad relaxing on a chair trying to pretend that this is all normal when it isn't -

I find my hands stopping when I start thinking about Alan's friend, or possible girlfriend now, Tintin. It's weird as when I think of her I don't think petty in a bikini at the pools side laughing at Gordon's antics but I find myself thinking back to the first ever party I got dragged to when I swapped shifts with Scott. 

Up until then, I rarely spoke to her and when I did I was horribly direct and blunt and wished I kept my mouth shut. When your in your father's shadow and your brother's shoes all the time you forget there is a ‘real you’ under all that and when it's invited to speak - you really wish it stayed buried.

Why am I still thinking about this one stupid time? I stab myself in the hand with a sharp bit of metal and swear. No I've lost all concentration now…

Tintin had lost her father that year due to old age and was very clingy to everyone and as usual, Alan was making a total hash of being a friend, though Gordon and Virgil teasing him may have something to do with that.

That night, all she wanted of him was to dance with her and while I like my brother he can be a pig headed idiot sometimes and refusing to dance in fear of being teased is the dumbest thing by far.

_(Pig headed idiot!? WHAT! JOHN! I know this was said in private but - oh I see. Well… hey, quick question, why all this stuff about Tintin in this entry? I know you've been married to her for eleven years, but this is back when - oh alright I'll go back and listen to the rest before asking questions, but you could just answer - )_

I didn't say a word, was to nervous of what stupid thing would come out of my mouth but I did walk over to her and offered to dance. I'm known for having two left feet however I don't think Tintin was expecting me to try the tango. She just wanted to hold someone and feel comforted as she let the music heal her broken heart.

We danced slowly in the corner, my arms around her and her head resting on my collar. Time seemed to stop for me then, I could feel my heart pounding in a way it never had before and this closeness to someone who wasn't one of my brothers or our dad was new and alien to me.

I didn't want it to stop...heck even now years later on another bloody planet where I'm supposed to be thinking selfishly about surviving, I'm still thinking about her and how much for one small moment I was really needed. Not as an example of my father's achievements, not as a example of being in his or my brother's shadows but as me - John.

I twirl a wire between my fingers. This one memory always makes me feel like crying, even when I'm alone thinking about it on the station, hell even the shift breaks I used to get on earth for two months of the year and I'm forced to be a ghost to everyone watching the world move around like I don't exist except maybe in the case of Gordon…

Good old reliable Gordon. He's probably going bananas without me to keep him out of trouble.

That thought makes me smile but it's short lived as Tintin creeps back into my thoughts, how beautiful she was and how alone she felt...and how for once I felt I could physically heal a heart instead of assuming my voice could from billions of miles in orbit.

I had fallen in love with her.

And that night I also had to let her go too and accept that I will always be in the background, even to Alan who stepped in unamused that I was showing him up in public with his ‘girl’. 

Forever alone.

I stepped out on the balcony and lit a smoke and just watched it burn. No amount of nicotine could take my mind off how empty I felt inside.

Even when Virgil and Gordon dragged me back inside to talk to other ladies at the party who seemed to have been swooned by my dancing that evening - I didn't care. I had glimpsed at what I had no chance of ever having.

I let out a really heavy sigh and rub my eyes and very briefly contemplate walking out into the heat without any air.

No. I need to get a hold of myself and finish this oxygen conversion tank. I may have lost my heart to someone who will never return it but I will always be the rock she can turn to if things fall apart as a friend. That's more than enough.

I need concentrate on trying to survive the night, baby steps, baby steps.

_(Oh wow. I had no idea… and now that I do it makes a lot of sense. I don't know if I should tell him that this made me cry, although I think he knows as he's watching me, platinum white hair, ice blue eyes and those scruffy looking features that make him look more like our mother's older brother Ricky who used to live in Texas and seems to be smiling behind his mug of matcha tea. The only thing wrong with this visage is Capaldi has it's head resting on his lap, dribbling something corrosive on the tiled floor...we'll get back to THAT later.)_

 


	7. Our last exchange.

_Are you sure I should add this John? After the other stuff this is going to make me sound like a complete and utter knobhead. Yeah, of COURSE I feel guilty over it! I felt utterly shit house! Oh? Fair enough then, if you insist I should put it in…_

_I had been finding it very difficult keeping what I knew from the rest of my family. The fact Gordon now had Brains investigating with him was putting a strain on my ability to lie. It wasn't helping having them all confiding in me either, after dad’s big admission, our oldest brother Scott burbled on my shoulder like a baby, John was to him after all the only thing left of our mother. (I don't remember her but seen pictures and it's pretty clear that even though we're both blondes like her, only John looks like her side of the family. The rest of us are more like dad's.)_

_Virgil would sit at his piano for hours playing one long continuous sad note after another for long periods, unable to find a tune that would warm the home. It wasn't the same without his ‘little songbird ‘to sing along with._

_Tintin avoided me, heck she couldn't even give me any eye contact when we were forced to be in the same room. The worst part is I know exactly why she's upset and is blaming me for John never coming back._

_All of them had been avoiding Gordon. I knew they were unsure how to handle him right now as it was obvious he had not accepted it even if they had no idea how much so._

_One evening after a week and a half, Gordon pulled me aside into John's small, dimly lit bedroom, sitting me down and handing me a cold beer. Looking around at the photos on the wall my heart just leaped out of my throat._

_“I can't do this anymore!” I blurted out. “I can't keep pretending he's not dead! This has to stop Gordon!”_

_Gordon was impassive as he sipped his beer, also looking around the room. I knew if he had just let it go he would have locked himself in here and hugged the toys on the bed until someone had to drag him out. In one way, this was a better alternative even if it was tearing my head in two._

_My brother then pulled a old mini tape recorder from his pocket and placed it in my hands._

_“Brains found this in the maintenance pod’s data files. He's agrees with me that this is the proof we need that matches the life signs he's still receiving from John’s suit. He's damn certain if John is dead that the readings would have died as there wouldn't be anything to take vitals of. Pity we can track the damn signal though.”_

_I press play and listen until the audio cuts out abruptly. I can't quite believe my ears so I play it again. It is indeed John’s voice logging in investigation data and as the audio sync changes it's clear he's logging it remotely for a while before the audio dies._

_“Something hit the com unit on the suits helmet Brains thinks, that's why the signal cut. But John was indeed on another ship!” Gordon started to grin. “That's evidence enough right?”_

_“Sort of.” I tell him, unconvinced._

_“John says something like the GSS Andromeda, maybe it's the name of the vessel? I don't know much about spaceships other than that sounds like the acronyms you guys use like those we used in Wasp.”_

_“GSS..” I mumble. “Only GSS ship I know of was Eden and we were all their to evacuate it. They couldn't have built another one.”_

_Gordon shrugged. “We'll find out soon enough Brains is checking it out as we speak. It's not as if Nasa wouldn't be smart enough to build it in utter secrecy this time after what happened with the last one.”_

_I nod. Gordon probably was right in his assumption. A cultist attack is something you don’t forget in a hurry._

_There was a knock on the doorframe and we both looked up to see Virgil standing there, looking a little more depressed than he had been all week. The expression I saw on Gordon's face was of pity, like he knew why Virgil was up here against his will._

_“Dad wants to talk to you Gordon.”_

_I watched Gordon's shoulders droop in defeat. Avoiding him about this entire lack of grieving was finally at an end. He knew they were going to do everything in their power now to make him accept John's loss as fact and there was no way to get out of it._

_As he stood up he whispered to me, “Whatever happens Alan, don't ever let me forget he is alive. Promise me, because they're going to brainwash me with facts and guilt till he's forgotten so they can move on too. Don't let me forget him.”_

_“You won't. You'd have to be on your deathbed to accept something like that.”_

_I see a smile creep into his features before he turns to follow Virgil out the room._

_Gordon's afraid they will sway him and I don't blame him. However I know the bonds between those two siblings are so strong that persuasion may be impossible unless they torture him. They won't go that far thankfully._

_After they leave I heave a great sigh as I glance around my brother's bedroom. It's a reminder that John worked so damn hard to earn all these complicated degrees that even our father the mighty martian himself, never could acquire in his life. Hell even I had a go at the robotics and advanced astrophysics and dropped out due to how bad it did my head in._

_It was like learning two foreign languages with several translations and alphabets. How John could get his head around it all was amazing._

_And yet despite all this hard work, intelligence and passion, John was still shadowed by us and what we achieved, some of which was more impressive as it was physical and in the public eye._

_We have everything, medals, trophies, accolades, pick of the girls at parties, the topic of all and every conversation but John would be the one in the shadow wishing he was rock climbing in the outback somewhere camping under the stars, because no one is interested in a young man who is smarter than they are._

_There was no excuse for my actions that day that ended up being the last face to face conversation with him. Actually it wasn't really a conversation._

_I had punched the utter crap out of him till his nose and lip bled._

_John didn’t do anything either but I was mad and quite frankly I would have hit anyone Tintin had kissed on the cheek, it just unfortunately had to be him._

_She gave them out to everyone, nothing to normally be upset over, heck Tintin has done more daring things with my siblings that is intended for all purposes, to make me jealous and up my game if I want to take the idea of us being a couple seriously (as you already know from earlier, she's been married to John years now so clearly things between us never got further than childish behavior.)_

_We had a really stupid fight and we both stormed off to blow of steam. I shouted and yelled down the beach till I felt better and was ready to talk it out like adults._

_Tintin however had gone to find someone to talk to who wouldn't give her an opinion but just listen and in turn make her feel better._

_I had caught the end of the conversation as I entered the garden her father used to lovingly tend to before his passing and grew hot with jealousy when I heard her laughing and saw my brother smiling. When he got up to leave she gave him a thank you kiss on the cheek, something to say her appreciation and something I've never expected anyone to do to John._

_He spotted me as he walked away from her, deep in thought and before he could even say hello to me my fist was flying, hitting him hard in the jaw. They kept pounding him as I shouted, “You stay the fuck away from MY GIRLFRIEND!”_

_I stopped eventually but by then John was on the ground on all fours blood soaking his t-shirt, one that I had got him for his birthday with the astronaut on the front and the moon on the back._

_“Your nothing! Can't you see that? No one wants or needs you here! Go back into space where you belong and should be left to rot!”_

_And I left him there, dripping blood._

_I'm fiddling with the audio tape of my brother's voice, thinking how much of a dick I had been. Now he's gone and I can't take any of it back._

_To top that off when Scott swapped over his shift, I overheard him and Gordon in the kitchen talking about John and some weird behavior he was showing and Scott asked about the bruises, ones his light colored skin couldn't hide._

_“Ask Alan.” was what Gordon said. “As for his behavior I'll be dealing with that once a week. He's mentally not ok Scott but keeping him here will just make it worse. Sure being on his own with it isn't ideal but I think being reminded we have lives and he doesn't is finally getting to him. He… he tried taking his own life Scott. I felt something was wrong, went to check on him and he was on the floor of his room with several different pill bottles and blood from some sort of fight he had been in just everywhere.”_

_“Are you dead sure he's going to be ok Gordon? That sounds quite serious and that he needs help.”_

_“I know. I think something happened between him and Alan that pushed him further than normal. He usually just talks to me when the shit hits the fan Scott, this might have just been too much to talk about. It won't happen again I assure you that, jabbing a needle into him with stuff that forced him to vomit over the toilet like Virgil when he's drunk far too much isn't something he'd want to repeat.”_

_I had no idea how much of a struggle it was to keep pretending nothing anyone said or did bothered him and how lonely he was._

_I didn't want those words or those actions to be the last ones we ever had._

_(Satisfied? Yeah, it feels better to admit I did miss you and felt like an arsehole. You forgive me though right? Yeah of course John, I think I understand why you wanted it left in. Thank you for inisting.)_

 


	8. Companion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter was broken into to parts - due to size.
> 
> Also Aliens on Mars in Thunderbirds is canon. The reason in the TAG film (classic Thunderbirds) they abandon the Mars exploration was due to alien Rock monster attacks. The film was made at a time when we knew very little about the red planet and gives me something to play with.
> 
>  
> 
> Song lyrics is By Ben Folds. The meloncoly sound of it suits John very well.

So far I've held out for two weeks but now we're having to venture out in search for another larger part of the wreckage.

The main reason for this is the urgent need for water and the hope is that the larger chunk of the ship will have a long term solution to the problem inside it. I have tried to create a system myself but due to the lack of humidity in the air my attempts have stalled. When you don't have the right stuff to make a conversion there's little you can do.

There has to be something I can do otherwise this attempt at survival will be short lived.

I feel strangely warm tonight, instead of freezing, something I had gotten used to here, having to rug up in my space suit to fight the chill in the darkness.

I'm not alone in here tonight it seems.

I sit up very cautiously letting my eyes adjust to the darkness.

Something is lounging on the tiny shelf bed beside me. It's large, leathery looking and snores worse than Virgil when he's had the flu.

And my movement has woken it up.

It moved as fast as I did, though more towards the sealed airlock door where's I fell off the bed and coward against the nearest wall.

I watched it claw the airlock that I sealed to keep my oxygen from escaping to the ether while I sleep and realised that I must have trapped it somehow - maybe it snuck in while I was scavenging during the day? It's the only way possible.

From what I can see it could easily kill me if it wanted to. It's rear legs are thick and end with monster sized talons like a bird of prey but far larger, half bird, half kangaroo. The front arms end with shovel shaped claws and from it's jaws two huge sets of tusks protrude outward like weapons. It's back is lined with spines and it's snorting and shoving its nose into the doors edges, trying to find a gap to get out.

However I'm still alive and it doesn't seem bothered about my existence anymore, at least as long as I'm terrified of it.

I'm shaking. Me and animals - unless they are rats - don't get along and that has nothing to do with Alan’s miniature alligators which are the stuff of nightmares for everybody when you step into the shower half asleep.

The creature gives up and shakes itself like a dog, grunting and snorting and seems to be sniffing the air.

Please don't let it smell the fact I'm utterly petrified.

 It stumbles over with an unusual gait, cautious of me encase I choose to harm it. That wouldn't be possible, the only thing I have that's passable as a weapon is on the other side of the cabin on the slap dash workbench I constructed to tinker and refine the oxygen generator for the cabin and tweek the portable one. 

Besides, I'm really not physically able to take something that big on. Stretching out my rations as much as I can I've had to cut corners and I'm not going to lie, I'm a lot weaker than I was when I crashed here.

It moves in closer and I raise my arms up to protect myself, despite how fruitless the idea seems. I feel a warm breath breathe on me as it investigates and then something heavy forces its way onto my lap and all I hear is this loud rumbling noise like before, followed by another snort.

I lower my arms slowly and can feel the rising panic that this ‘thing’ is far too comfortable around me, heck lying across my lap pinning me to the floor has me freaking out a little. 

But what can I do? It's far too heavy to -

The end that looks like a snout of sorts starts to rub against my hand, forcing me to feel its scaly skin under my fingers. There's a weird noise it makes as it does so and hesitantly I attempt to stroke it as that is what it seems to want. Another sound is made, one that isn't as threatening as the last one, it's more like a chirp than a growl.

It likes being touched.

I'm in a state of fascinated horror now, petting it wondering why such a creature isn't afraid of me. I am technically the ‘alien’ now.

“Out of all the creatures in the universe you had to meet, I had to be your first experience with humans.” I say absently, still patting it. I'm starting to feel a weird sense of calm as the creature responds to my hands. “A weedy and pathetic example of humanity. I suppose it could be worse, I'm at least harmless.”

Sleep has never come that easy for me and even now when it looks like I maybe quite safe, I still struggle to even fall into a doze.

At least I am warm and not freezing sold in the extreme cold, that's something.

_(Oh wow, wait a minute… Now I wish I didn't have to write this from the audio log. John has this ‘knack’ for singing old songs that just sound beautiful and right now I am devastated I can't share the audio with you. We all got the talent for instrument playing - Scott and Gordon play guitar, I play the Saxophone and Virgil the piano - but John is all thumbs when it comes to playing anything but my word, give him a bunch of words and it’s just amazing. I'll add the lyrics...the song is ‘learn to live with what you are’, you'll just have to bare with me while I replay the audio on repeat a little…)_

**I know that you're in there**

**I can see you**

**You're saying you're ok**

**I don't believe you**

**And now that the gig is off**

**The spell is broken**

**The fat lady sung**

**The president has spoken.**

**These days that you were waiting for**

**Will come and go**

**Like any day -**

**Just another day.**

 

**There's never gonna be a moment of truth for you**

**While the world is watching**

**All you need is the thing you forgotten**

**And that's to learn to live with what you are**

 

**So freak out if you wanna**

**And I'll still be here**

**Don't call me for years and when you do**

**Yeah, I'll still be here**

**I'm not saying the effort is a waste of time - but I**

**Just love you for the things you couldn't change**

**Though you've tried**

**These hours of confusion they will soon expire**

**Like everything**

**Does**

 

**Sometimes**

**Everything you've ever wanted**

**Floats above**

**He's sticking out his tongue and laughing**

**While everything**

**Anyone can ever need**

**Is down below**

**Waiting for you**

**To know this**

 

**There's never gonna be a moment of truth for you**

**While the world is watching**

**All you need is the thing you've forgotten**

**And that's to learn to live with what you are.**

I start to feel drowsy and find myself resting my head on its leathery back, discovering the spikes that protrude out are thin, made up out of it's skin like the collar of a frill-necked lizard. I won't know how safe I am in its company until morning so for now I should try and make a conscious effort to rest.

_(Going to jump ahead a little, as all the audio has at this point is the creature's snoring then moving brother doing the usual human biological stuff you do when you wake up. I'm not sure why he continued to record,other than maybe he figured this might be his last day of survival and even now he hasn't got a clue himself why he did so I'm getting no help there.)_

I leave the wrist coms on as I take my suit off for another long hike into the unknown. I strap on the portable air converter and step out into the searing heat fully aware this is the day I either find a solution to my water problems or die trying.

The creature follows me out and for the first time I can see it is blind as it has no eyes to speak of. It doesn't need them though as those nostrils look sensitive enough to do all it's sensory vision of it's world. It's skin looks brownish red, similar to the dirt under foot. 

If they it's going to continue to keep me company, It needs a name.

I bend down and give its head under its huge jaws a scratch. It snorts happily and I think about Alan's favorite television alien, Doctor who.

I forget who his favorite actor is though, there's been far too many in 150th year or so run -loose track- and just think about one of the ones I quite liked.

“Mind if I call you Capaldi?” 

There's an enthusiastic bump into me as it tries to get more attention and while my voice is muffled as I'm talking by the breathing apparatus, the general feeling I'm getting is that it's ok to call him that as well, ‘it’ isn't appropriate as far as I'm concerned.

I stand back upright, a sense of purpose now taking over. It's strange I haven't felt like I'm running on screw all time since after I got my NASA internship. Back then I wanted to be something everyone could be proud of, someone smart and self sufficient, not relying on my families money,reputation - everything I worked hard for and earned. I even said no to dad paying for college and worked my arse off in a call center for the emergency services in Sydney to save up the money for that toffee nosed stuck up hole of a place called ‘Harvard.’

I wanted to stand out from my brothers just once…

Then it all went pear shaped and I completely had turned my life into a sludge muck of rotting porridge. Hell one year I remembered watching a celebration event for the unsung heroes like police and fire brigade - the entire emergency services - but no mention of those who take the calls.

As someone who worked in that sector and had started doing it for our own organization, having my own older sibling telling me and other people that those who take the calls are not as important as those who respond and go to the emergency. 

I trundle on in the dust and over rocks, the fury I felt that still bubbles inside me when I think about Virgil's stupid backhanded comment.

 I argued till dad had to drag me out of the room and told me Virgil, nor Scott or Alan knew I had worked behind the scenes before in the emergency call centers and up till Gordon and Tintin mentioned it, neither did he. I thought they knew… I felt so stupid till it dawned on me that no one cared what I did other than Gordon and Tintin. 

Everyone else was busy carving their own path that they had forgotten I existed and with International Rescue in full swing they were too busy showing off that they were the big heroes they didn’t care that in order to have everything function properly you needed someone in the background…

Gordon kept trying to assure me they'd eventually come around and I could see how annoyed he got when I got thrown under the bus, spoken about as if I was the yardstick or just from watching how much being pushed aside was hurting me.

I stop and sigh. 

No Gordon to save me out here. That...that stabs harder than I first realised, how much I need my older sibling to look out for me, just like we did when we were little. For a while I didn't need him or anyone.

What happened? Why did it change?

I look down as Capaldi brushes against my jeans, the sound of leathery scales against denim a bizarre lonely melody in such an arid and empty place. 

Now there is no one to fish me out, to care if I live or die…

Except maybe there is. I give the leathery head one more scratch before walking again, humming to myself.  

You know I maybe a pathetic excuse for a son but I think I should have at least got some kudos for trying to pave my own way for a while. Besides, it's one of the few times in my life I can look back to proudly and say ‘I helped people’ without feeling I was alienated from the entire process.

 Another huge chunk of wreckage looms overhead and I stop again to assess the damage from afar. Now that I know I'm not alone on this planet looking out for danger is something I just did subconsciously, as I didn't even bother before.

Funny how your behavior can change when more facts are presented to you.

It looks relatively safe, other than the rocky descent downwards to get there. All those rock climbing camping trips with Alan may actually be useful now, especially those insane ones in Alice Springs he signed us up for that involved no safety gear whatsoever. 

Alan I swear loves living on the edge and thinks I do too.

_(Actually it's more like ‘let's scare the crap out of my older sibling’ but as usual it's John who turns out to be far more braver than me, something that used to frustrate me. To think about it now though, without that hidden bravery I would have lost my brother to something horrible a long time ago. Being brave comes in many forms, the fact John fights the voices of defeat in his head enough to become their master is what makes me really proud to be related to him.)_

I start the climb downwards, hunting for holds. The hardest part is how dry and brittle the rock face is, chunks come loose every time I shift a foot or move my hand and it all loosens things further down my descent making it slippery and dangerous.

I can't afford to fall. Injury out here is a death sentence.

I slide a little of the way, there is enough slope to do it on and the gravel I've created has given me a bit of grip under foot until I need to climb again though a rock does come out and I hit the ground below and roll into the side of a huge piece for the wreckage sticking out of it. 

I must have blacked out, as I awoke to be greeted by the huge snout of Capaldi nudging me in the chest, trying to get me to move.

I reach out and touch it. “I'm ok. Bruised, but ok.”

 There's a snort and a nuzzle against my hand and I can't help but smile behind the respiratory mask. My air converter must be undamaged, which is lucky because I would have typically damaged a proper oxygen tank from that fall, but that's not why I'm smiling. It's the fact someone is checking I'm ok. 

I rarely felt like smiling back at home when people did that. I'm not sure why, maybe because I assumed they were forcing themselves to be kind to me. I didn't want them to feel pity like that with me.

I use the sheet of twisted metal to help myself up off the ground. I'm not injured, but the heat and lack of water are starting to really drain my batteries. I'm not a person who believes in religion as such, agnostic and accept that others do to find meaning in their lives - but I'm finding myself praying to anything metaphysical that there is mercy given to those who never give up fighting.

Dragging myself into the shade of the wreckage I plonk down to give myself some respite and let my eyes adjust from the harsh light to the shady gloom. The metal has a distinct ‘plink’ noise as the sun's heat caresses the metal which sounds slightly musical in a way. Capaldi is already snuffling around, occasionally picking up a rock in its jaws and crushing it with ease.

That's nice to know that rocks are a staple food for it here. I was beginning to worry I'd have to share what little rations I have and starving myself further. 

I lay back and take a break. I need all the energy I can get when I start to hunt for something to solve my water problems.


	9. Feeling Forgotten

It's too hot to move from my shady bit of destroyed ship and watching my unusual companion happily crunching rocks between his jaws I take the small amount of rations I brought out of my pocket and stare at it gloomily.

I left the peanuts and the beef jerky sticks behind as the salt would create thirst faster but I'm left with isn't any better. 

I slowly chew the dried mango piece and put the rest back in my pocket and continue watching Capaldi snuffle around, eat the rocks on the planet's surface like they're part of a endless buffet. My mind wanders off - it's hard to remain focused on so little energy.

Loneliness is something I'm used to but I'll be the first to say it's not something I wanted my life to be like. I wanted to travel the stars, make new friends, make a brand new life beyond the confines of Earth with other like minded explorers.

Failing that I could always be closer to my family at home.

Not entirely sure what went wrong when I wound up with neither but it's clear I may not get any chance to fix it.

I had inklings I was being forgotten about at home, despite Gordon telling me otherwise. I did eventually get an obvious sign, on my first day of my last break at home. 

I arrived at midnight, Scott needing to be filled in on a lot of stuff before I flew the rocket back home and to my surprise there was no one to greet me. I don't expect it but it's weird when Dad isn't sitting at his desk waiting for all of us boys who are supposed to be home are safe on the ground.

Actually, I felt relieved that he didn't wait up for me. For once it was like I was trusted enough to shut down everything for the night. I gave Scott one last call back to confirm we we're home and that was pretty much the start of my break - at least unless they needed me on a rescue, which probably wasn't likely.

Coming in at that hour, the house felt unfamiliar and foreign without my other brothers lounging around. I head for the kitchen down stairs for something to eat and find Tintin at the table, reading a magazine.

“Good morning, Tintin. How come your still awake?”

The smile she gave me looked sad. “I couldn't sleep.”

“Well, how about I make both of us a hot milo? I'm going to be awake a while.”

“That sounds lovely, John.”

I spend a little while pottering around the big kitchen, trying to remember where everything is. In the end Tintin came to help when I couldn't find the kettle. She chided me on preferring old technology over the fancy new coffee machine in the corner of the bench but that was done in good humour because she always found the stuff I did rather backward and amusing.

I guess I can be a little strange sometimes.

Back at the table I get a good look at the article Tintin was reading. She noticed and slid it over to me.

“It was printed yesterday. I only just managed to get a copy. Your brothers are very popular.”

“Oh?” I sip my drink and look properly at the page. There's a large photo of dad and my brother's all dressed up smart. Headlining caption says ‘TIME’S Richest bachelors of the year!’

“You would have outshined them if you were in the picture.”

“You think so?” I couldn't believe Tintin said that and almost choked on my drink.

“Well, you're all handsome young gentlemen.” Tintin blushed, avoiding looking at me. “But you would have sort of stood out.”

“Oh.” I wasn't sure what she meant by that. I knew I didn't look anything like our father as much as the other's did, inheriting most of my genetics from our mother's family. I’m tall and skinny, something none of my other siblings are and look more like a ‘pretty boy’ than a growing gentleman. It probably was supposed to be a compliment but it sure didn't feel like one.

The article went a few pages with some good photos of them all looking as attractive as possible with little interviews under them full of the usual tactless questions. The last one was with dad and reading it…

Thinking back Tintin must have read my expression as boy, I certainly recall the look of ‘pity’ on her face she gave me when I got the the part where they asked Jeff about his ‘other - not - photographed - at - the - time - son’. I had never felt so insulted, so brushed aside in my life till I read that paragraph and I'm damn sure it would have showed. 

He even didn’t bother mentioning my name. It was as if he waved it off like I wasn't as important as the others involved in the shoot. I don't know what hurt more, the fact Gordon who tells me everything never mentioned this or the fact my father just didn't feel I was important enough to be included as a part of the family.

That's when I really started to notice how alienated I was from them.

“This isn't helping me! Grrrrah!”

Capaldi’s head swivels at the sound of my outburst. I'm now standing and punching my fists into the steel behind me venting my anger at how unwanted I really am.

“I fucking hate you! I hate you all! None of you gave a flying fuck about me!”

I can feel my knuckles go numb but I'm so fueled by self loathing I keep going till they start to bleed. If it wasn't for heat stress getting in first, I’d have probably kept going until I shattered every bone in my hands.

The thing is, they don't exactly hate me...except maybe Alan. I tried to die, failed at that too and I think Gordon told everyone because despite not being allowed home for over a year, every care package had little home made snacks by Tintin, heck once there was a large bento box of different things and Gordon’s weekly call made it bearable.

They just… tend to forget that I want to be a part of the family too more often than not.

Ok I can do this..I can cope.

I turn to the rest of the wreckage and my heart skips a beat as I search and discover that this was one part of the ship I was looking for.

Quite alot of stuff is damaged, but there are pipes and tubes and seeds in packets. I read the labels and I'm genuinely excited. 

They're seeds for fruits and vegetables.

I located the remains of the hydroponics bay.

Feverishly, I start hunting the wreckage and start finding all sorts of useful things. I jog out into the sun, kick a large chunk of steel loose to use it as a sled and start piling on everything I can use the second I get back to base camp. There's all sorts, like solar panels, spare batteries, fertilizers, water storage tanks which seem undamaged and the ultimate prize - an entire water conversion set up. 

That, is one vital system on any starship. The ability to create your own water via chemical reaction. Without it, you wouldn't be able to live on the moon or travel beyond the known reaches of our solar system.

Hope to hell it will work. It looks new and untested, hinting that the hydroponics bay wasn't fully operational when the ship was stolen.

I pull out wires in desperation, time is ticking on and while I didn't find water as such the promise I can have something drinkable quite soon is enough motivation to savage and strip what I can from the wreckage, tie it to the steel sled and attempt the damn impossible by dragging my windfall away, picking my way back up the safest route out of the rocky ravine, the weight of everything putting more stress on my failing body than ever before.

I don't get very far before I collapse in a heap on the hard rocky ground. My heart is going out of control like something is kicking it around my chest cavity and as much I'm acquainted with the human anatomy I'm unsure if I'm supposed to feel it throbbing like it might explode. 

Everything is fuzzy, trying to stand up again is difficult, my head hurts as bad as my chest and for a few minutes I have no idea what's happening or where I am.

Shit.

I don't want to go into shock, not when I'm so close!

_(My brother actually stops here, the audio is pretty much of him hitting the ground in a way I'm certain would be him losing conscious due to dehydration. I can't work out how serious his condition was but he seems to recover over the next few hours of audio - at least enough to function and start working on something. There's also a bit of unusual audio which I assume is something dragging him out of the sun, again with added assumption along with the sled of junk. I'm eyeing the ‘thing’ he brought back from Mars as it's currently enjoying the sun on the veranda and I'm curious how strong the creature is. That's the only way I can guess my brother survived that salvage run - but I have no proof anywhere that Capaldi saved his life, or at least attempted to. I've seen it do many things over the years and I'm still confused with how attached it has become to John. I guess I'll never find out.)_

 


	10. Hanging onto hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind words an kudos. Aim to please although I am aware I'm not as dark or a detailed a story teller and have a style that alot of people dislike. It's ok, i don't mind it at all! I enjoy the process and it's nice others do too.

_I fiddle with my tie and look across the large cavern and mumble aloud, “Where the hell is Gordon? He's got Scott’s rings!”_

_“Easy, Alan.” Virgil says to me calmly. “He'll be here. Same as Scott. I doubt they will show us all up.”_

_Those words are supposed to put my mind at ease but all I do is fidget more. I look across the cavern again at the small amount of people we managed to keep the wedding parties to._

_Caven is the right word, we are in an underground church cut out from limestone in the small opal mining town of Coober Pedy not far From Adelaide, Australia. A tiny venue to keep it intimate and allow Virgil to make sure no unwanted photographers from magazines and other press can get in._

_Down the aisle Scott enters and walks briskly with propose like a man on his last tether and hands me a box really roughly and growls, “Congrats, Alan you're now my best man. Don't stuff it up.”_

_I blink in surprise. “Where's Gordon?”_

_“Not going to make it.”_

_“What?!” Virgil exclaimed. “Where is he? I'll damn drag the idiot here by his ears if I have to.”_

_“It won't be necessary ok? He's just not coming so we'll have to deal with it.” Scott straightened his jacket. “Do I have spinach in my teeth? I know I didn't eat any but you never know at a time like this.”_

_As Virgil helps fuss over Scott I notice our other sibling slinking in, not even dressed up for the part and take a seat in the back corner. He looks a mess from here which lately has been pretty normal for Gordon as his head and his heart have been in quite a bit of conflict with each other for the past few months._

_I spot a large mark under his right eye._

_It's not long before our dad notices and escorts Gordon outside and as I'm watching a whole host of things are going through my head. He hasn't been able to grieve at all and that one thing that's preventing acceptance is how quickly the rest of the family have just put it to one side. John is gone and that's the facts._

_It's not fair._

_“Sorry, Virgil take these.” I give him Scott’s rings and he looks affronted and Scott is mortified. “Nervous jitters, you know… will be back once I find the loo.”_

_I scurry out of the main cavern and go searching though in reality I just had to follow our father's very disgusted tone of voice which is providing some pretty intense echos in the building._

_“Son, this is the biggest day in your brother's damn life! You are not going to show him or any of us up! You are to go back there and put your damn bloody suit on, clean yourself up and stand out the front with your brother's or so help me -”_

_I get to them with enough time to grab dad by the shoulders before he does something he regrets. He never believed in harsh punishment but the odd smack when we were little to get us back in line was called for now and then. Even now as grown adults he still forgot that you couldn't smack us like that anymore._

_“It's ok dad, I'll help him get sorted. You just delay Penny stepping out before we get our arses out there.”_

_Dad's face was unimpressed but he relented. “Very well. It's not like I don't have other problems to attend to.”_

_At the time I had no idea what he meant when he walked away until later as Titin who was Penny's only Bridesmaid never showed either. She had been acting strange since the news about John and as much as I tried to figure it out, she kept pushing me and everyone else away creating more tension in the house._

_(I'll get into that later I promise)_

_“Come on Gordo,” I say as unthreatening as I could. “Let's just make it through one more day. For Scotty’s sake. You can tell me all about what eating you as well ok? “_

_Gordon nodded despite hanging his head. I couldn't be sure if he had been drinking, but then you never could tell with him as he could drink Virgil under the table and still hold a intelligent conversation afterwards - and Virgil could seriously drink at least half a trucks worth of whisky bottles on a good day._

_I usher him into the room our suits had been in and locate his still hanging up and theatrically dust it before handing it to him. There's one suit left hanging on the rack and I can see the look Gordon gives it._

_Scott still got the tailors to make John a suit, despite him not ever going to be present. In a way I also feel a stab in the guts as by the time Scott came to terms he was gone for good, he had already included him into his wedding plans - hell even a place at the reception was still placed between me and Gordon for him. Small parts of them couldn't let go despite the obvious in front of their faces and only me and Gordon were picking up on it. Dad still had his damn Christmas presents on his bed, the room completely untouched despite how often Virgil wandered in and out of it to look for some book or another. They acted like they were looking forward but they were kidding themselves._

_“I can't do this, Alan. I just can't keep pretending or even lie to myself like they all are.” Gordon tried to hand the suit back. “It's horrible to watch how fake it all is.”_

_“I know. It's also not a good way your dealing with it. You need to get a grip on yourself a little more. You're falling to pieces.” I hand the suit back, though this time I pull him into a tight hug._

_“Only reason I'm keeping it together is because I promised you I would. You need to do the same for me.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yes, Really. I still play the recording before I go to sleep at night. I miss our ‘straight man’ in our trio just as much as you. If he is alive, I'll bet he's missing us too, especially you, you great big clown.”_

_I felt my older brother start to shake as his arms tightened around me. Gordon was breaking down and I just stood there unsure how to comfort him. Virgil must have been sent to find us as he poked his head in and gave me a nod before waiting outside. He understood this was private, Gordon never showed weakness to anyone other than John and to see him crumble without him was enough to make your heart feel like concrete._

_The wedding could wait a little longer._

_I don't really have much to add about the wedding itself, it was the usual ‘bride walks down the isle’ affair except Lady Penelope being a very modern thinking lady was dressed in a lovely blue dress instead of the standard white and having her given away by Parker since her father was gone a long long time ago. Our father gave a speech as was custom since there was no father of the bride present and the rest was more or less a blur for me, spending most of my time keeping my own and Gordon's spirits up till we ended up at the hotel we were staying at (also underground) and I found Tintin in her room._

_Like Gordon, she couldn't bring herself to show up and unlike my brother didn't change her mind last minute out of guilt._

_I sat down on the bed beside her. “You missed out on a nice occasion. We don't get many of those.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Then why-”_

_“Because I didn't want to ruin Penny's day.”_

_I stare in disbelief. “Why?”_

_She let out a sigh. “I know it's not spoken that they miss your brother but they have done so much stuff as if he was still expected to turn up. Those tiny little reminders would have been everywhere and I..”_

_She looked at her fidgeting fingers. “I couldn't bare it. You know Gordon still thinks he's alive somewhere, right?”_

_“He isn't the only one, believe me.”_

_“Is that so? You honestly go through everyday hoping he's going to walk into the kitchen at midnight, smiling like the weight of the world on his shoulders could be lifted enough for a cup of milo, a cigarette and leftovers from dinner?” She said darkly._

_“Well not exactly -”_

_“I do.” she stood up and walked around a little, rubbing her elbows. “I don't know him as much as you boys, but he always tried to be nice to me even if he sometimes said some unintentional things. You knew he never meant them to hurt anyone. It took a bit if time to get used to someone being so openly ‘blunt’. I really liked him alot. Wish I told him that.”_

_“I'm sure he knew. You like all of us as a second family.”_

_“That's not quite what I meant, Alan.” she let herself smile a little. “I REALLY liked him.”_

_I couldn't believe my ears, the words made me stand up fast and walk over to hold one of her hands and look her in the eyes. “You what? I thought you were into me?”_

_“Alan, we're great friends,” she laughed softly. “But I know you way too well and it just wouldn't work. We're better as close friends, that's all.”_

_“Oh.” I let go of her hand. She kissed me on the cheek._

_“It's sweet you think otherwise, but I don't feel that strong attraction-”_

_“It's ok!” I laugh uneasily. “You can be into whoever you want! That's how freedom of choice works, isn't it?”_

_“Yes indeed Alan. I'm glad we can still be friends. That means a lot more than you know.”_

_“So.. You never told him?”_

_“No. But I hope one day he'll walk into that damn kitchen at midnight and I do. I want to lift the weight from his shoulders and tell him… t-that someone loves him.”_

_“You know,” I said, hugging her tight. “I hope that day comes to.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. A bitter pill

I've lost track on how long I've been here. It's strange, but it feels normal now, like this was supposed to happen.

I've completely changed my sleeping habits, making the most of the cold nights to scavenge more parts of the wreckage I can find. I learned the hard way about how bad it can get during the heat of the day and I'm lucky to be alive after that almost fatal mistake.

We're doing better now. 

I have both cabins pumping oxygen now, completely solar and battery operated, found power cells to illuminate them and most importantly managed to build a solar powered generator from scratch to get the hydroponics water system functional allowing me to convert the surrounding air into water regardless of lack of humidity levels. It took alot of work and some serious struggle to stay on top of my desire to just lie in a heap till my body gave up, but it is done and even if the first few precious drops tasted awful it was better than nothing at all.

Now, waking up here isn't such a bad thing anymore. My skills in dealing with the hydroponics lab on Thunderbird Five for a few years had come in handy for something, both cabins were now thriving with plants, having stuffed then into anything I could find and fill with the the fertiliser I found.

I'm still venturing out to drag back things to improve living conditions and with Capaldi, bring back anything useful has been made easier.

Also, I have found I have a fan for my singing.

 When I sing to the plants, in an attempt to join in the song, his scales colours change like a chameleon to blend in with the new greenery that's taken over under my care and to my voice, especially to to the tones I use. It's interesting but I think this is it's equivalent to signing along - as it's grunting and other strange noises cease when it does this. I'm finding myself recording more data logs, not because I hope someone finds them if I die out here,but because it's now my only scientific discovery...or I'm Capaldi’s.

The tropical heat caused by the plants perspiring is getting to me a little, I'm not used to it and stepping outside isn't an improvement in the middle of the day. Right now I'm just sitting against the cool steel of the ship trying to say out of any sun, watching my martian companion sunbathe as the sun comes through the thick glass window of the cabin.

I find I'm thinking about home more but not of the island - the comfort of my little private home in space is what I'm missing. 

It's weird to miss a place that was more or less a minimum security prison and an oversized satellite dish, however when my entire life for the last few years has revolved around it I guess it's understandable. Actually, it's not the place in itself I miss, but the hurmous care packages Alan drops in every two months.

Gordon's silly letters, his long and rather fascinating papers he regularly publishes in science journals about ocean life. 

The newest book Scott sends up about the latest military planes used by the GDF, accompanied by a build it yourself model kit curitasy of Brains.

Alan's photographs and newspaper clippings of the rescues they get set on are all neatly labeled with little notes and the occasional ‘Thank you’ message.

Virgil sends up illustrations and sketches, sometimes family photos of stuff I've missed, like birthdays, Easter and Christmas.

Then...there's this extra box which is care package in itself...from Tintin.

She packs strange little snack foods from her trips to the mainland, sometimes they're salty treats from Japan, sweet candies from England and various chocolates from Switzerland. The only time I get any alcohol or cigarettes smuggled on board the station is because of her and the curious parcels. 

She sometimes sends clothing that she had Grandma make that she designed and once, she sent something that I couldn't believe she convinced Virgil to do.

Well...maybe I could. The idea of Tintin asking Virgil for a very ‘private’ photo session and tricking him by saying they were for Alan was just too perfect, however no one would dare say no to such a beautiful creature. 

She was flirting with me, a guy who she rarely saw and knew very little about. But I always wrote something for Alan to send back - for everyone so no one knew what was in each others letters - especially hers.

_(John! Why am I listening to all this!? Yes, yes MARRIED to her but damn! John, do you want me to write that!? I mean she was...oh ALRIGHT I give!)_

After that dance that night, something changed between us. The distance seemed less of an issue and well, things blossomed. 

It was a really fascinating secret affair, two minds needing company with nothing sexual - other than some very naughty photography - and out of everything I miss..I miss her.

The only reason I keep doing anything I've come to realise…is for her, strange I know as I tried to kill myself the last time I was on Earth because I couldn't handle having to give her up and leave her with my younger brother a man who didn't deserve her.

That...I can explain.

Bottle of pills just magically appeared in my hands as I left the bathroom after trying to clean up the blood from my siblings left hook and once in my tiny little room I just kept tipping it’s contents into my palm. 

It hit hard - not just the punch - all of it.

I would never be more than a ‘Mister’ to Tintin, you know, whatever the male equivalent of a ‘Mistress’ was… I meant absolute pittence to my father and I was just some guy who took emergency calls to Scott and Virgil, the competition for a lady to Alan…

And for a minute, I had thought immediate older brother Gordon had given up in me too, until the bastard jabbed me with something in the arm that made me vomit everything up on the deep purple carpet.

That was a horrible night. I don't remember it that well other than the violent shaking, losing and regaining consciousness and my brother holding me tight, trying not to breakdown because not only did I scared the crap out of him - he had reached the conclusion my mental state was not healthy.

It still isn't, but I'm not game enough to do that ever again… or anything similar.

If I have to keep being in the background like a dirty secret or being forgotten then…

It wouldn't matter now. No one knows I'm alive.

_(Ah, I see why you told me to just keep going. Are you sure all that is ok to add? No, I don't want you to ‘add’ more details for me to write down! It's a little much don't you think? No, of course not. I'll leave it then, I just didn't expect it.)_

Watching the sun shift in the sky lazily through half open eyes and listening to Capaldi snort as he begins to shift around, I know the hunt for more comforts will begin as soon as the sun sets.

 


	12. Gordon

_(I'm feeling guilty about adding this, I am doing so not because John said to, but because Gordon gave me the go ahead. Really, I felt I needed his permission and as he said because his son may read this and I didn't want Antony to get the wrong impression of his old man. Gordon just shrugged and said ‘Why? Best he learn I'm human too.’ You know, I can't argue with that logic.)_

_“YOU CAN'T DO THIS!”_

_“Gordon, we're just shifting John's stuff into storage, we're not throwing it out. We need to room for the baby.”_

_“Why? Doesn't Penny have a mansion? Why doesn't she and Scott move there and have kids?!”_

_“Because Gordon, Dad’s too sick to travel anymore and well, you're mentally unstable. We need all the help we can get to look after you both.”_

_Gordon snarled. “I’m fucking FINE, Virgil! Nothing wrong with me!”_

_I had to step in and say something, otherwise Gordon was going to wind up with a fat lip. “It's ok Virgil, we'll do it together. You just go check on dad ok?”_

_“You sure Alan?”_

_“Positive.”_

_Virgil backed down. “Alright.” He pointed a finger at Gordon, “You better not piss about ok? I know the medication your taking is messing with you a little but cripes Gordon, learn to be reasonable.”_

_He signed before walking away, leaving me to deal with the problem._

_“You're not going to really do it Alan are you?” Gordon’s eyes pleaded with me. “You haven't forgotten he's still out there?”_

_I held my older brother by the arms. “I haven't. Not at all. However I do agree with putting his things in storage - though not because of the baby. The longer we leave it all out the way it is, the more it collects dust and gets damaged. I'd rather it put somewhere safe so when we do find him, everything is still in its original condition. Maybe if you help me we can pick some of his things out for you to keep in your room for him too?”_

_I smile, hoping Gordon accepts my answer. Slowly I watch him sadly nod and I give him an assuring hug. “Look, I'll even put his cds on so we can sing along while we pack. That sounds like a good idea to me!”_

_A few hours went by, both of us slowly putting things carefully in boxes, music joyfully playing in the background on John's small cd player, a strange contrast to the somber mood between Gordon and I. John loved melancholy music alot and while the tunes were lively, they had darker undertones which I never really got until now...but then again, I’ve never felt so lost before._

_I start on John's large almost never ending bookshelf and as I start packing them I find myself reading the covers. Some of them make me grin. “Hey Gordon! Remember John reading up this one?” I hand my sibling the book and watch a very shaky smile start to form._

_“Heh..yeah.” He mumbled. “He always could make the characters sound real, no matter what he read.”_

_“Ohhh lookie here!” I can't help myself getting a little excited. “Quantum Quasar dreaming! That's one of his own novels! Look, it even has all of Virgil’s pen and ink drawings in it!”_

_Gordon came over to look. “Well I'll be damned. You know he never let us read those… wonder why?”_

_“Well we can now, Don't see why not.”_

_“Hmmm ok, sounds fair. I was curious because he made so much money out of writing them and it seemed rather weird.” Gordon flicked through the books pages._

_“Maybe because he was afraid of what we thought? He got a bit withdrawn and left in space alot so maybe he never got around to it? They look untouched by even his own fingers so maybe they came when he wasn't around to receive them? It's not a far fetched thought, it's a wonder you find anything in this bomb site.” I laugh. “You know I bet Virgil hasn't seen them either! Maybe we could show him later?”_

_“Yeah, he might get a kick out of seeing his art published unless he has his own copies.”_

_“I doubt it.” I said flatly. “Virgil probably did the art and forgot about it. You know he can be a little absent minded when he churns out art like a machine.”_

_“Ah yeah the old ‘arse or breakfast time’ conundrum.” Gordon laughed._

_This was the last time I saw a real happiness from Gordon. (Well, I have since, but that's not the point.)_

_Weeks went by and I started to notice changes in Gordon's behavior and not in a positive way. His emotions started to flat line and he seemed almost absent, like pieces of his mind had just gone missing._

_I don't think anyone else had noticed, afterall a baby is a big deal and since we discovered that they were now having twins, things got more hectic and with Gordon more pliable than dough setting up the cribs and babies things took no time._

_A part of me was dying too. Gordon eventually stopped talking about John - heck had stopped altogether. He wasn't sick but I knew something was wrong._

_One afternoon I entered his room which was empty and I was in shock . The room was usually the mirror image of John’s, only more disorganised. I sat down on the bed as Gordon lay there staring at the ceiling, his bright eyes now sort of dull in colour and his skin going pale as his tan was really starting to fade from the lack of sunshine he had been exposed to._

_I open the large book in my hands and nudged him. “Hey how about some family time, Gordon? I dusted off the old photo album since you've been looking a bit distant and maybe we can add some pages for the soon to be new arrivals?”_

_I flick through a few of the pictures and talk animatedly about a few before I feel Gordon shift and sit beside me, looking at them too. Occasionally he'd give some input, even if it was a little monotoned but at least it was something. Pictures with mum made him pause a little, his memory seeming to struggle…_

_“Who's that?”_

_My heart feels like it burst in a sudden accident. The picture he's pointing at is one I remember taking at some family party._

_“Who's that, Alan?” He asks again, a little more pained this time, his features knotting in confusion._

_“That's you and John.” I say softly. The picture is of the two of them at a German restaurant and pub in Melbourne, drinking these two pints of beer bigger than either of their heads, both drunk and having a ball._

_“Who's John?”_

_“Our brother.. You know, the one eight months younger than you.”_

_“I didn't know we had another brother. Your making stuff up Alan.”_

_“Gordon...that IS our brother John….you- you don't remember do you?”_

_Gordon grunted. “I don't know what your on about. Please stop lying Alan, or get out of my room.”_

_More than hurt, I drop the album at my feet and storm out, unable to stomach this… THIS from Gordon, of all people! I'm not even thinking where my feet take me until I've wound up in Tintin’s room in the guest house around the back and see her door ajar. Peering in I can tell she's busy praying. I never fully understood some of her traditions, even growing up as close friends but I always found it a little creepy with this ‘shrine to the dead’ business she's got going on in there. I mean it was ok when it was just to her dad…_

_It was the big one for my brother near her bed that terrified me. I never knew how much she really loved him and my stupidity had kept wedging itself between them._

_I frown, something is bothering me about it more than usual and it dawns on me that I'm a bigger idiot than I thought I was._

_I left Gordon alone with our family photo album._

_Running back through the corridors, open planning rooms, I bolt for Gordon’s bedroom and find the most distressing of scenes. One bookshelf was pulled down and half on the bed, books everywhere and what looks like photographs all strewn amongst them._

_I search and can't seem to find him until my eyes fall on his uniform folded on his desk._

_His blaster is missing._

_Frantically I search the house, getting odd looks as I do so running from room to room before heading outside, searching the patio and the extensive gardens._

_Exhausted and panic stricken I head for the garden shed, desperation settling in that Gordon could have done something by now. As I open the door I move fast, grabbing my older brother who was still trying to aim his weapon shakely at his head, the tears down his face an indicator that he wasn't thinking with a full bag of marbles. There was a mild struggle as damn, Gordon maybe shorter but he is still far stronger than me in any given emotional state and boy did he make me have to fight dirty by biting his hand to get him to drop the blaster as it fired, leaving a huge crater in the rotting wooden walls of the building._

_“What the hell are you-” I started to shout but stop myself as Gordon sinks to the floor curled into a ball, a crumbling broken mess._

_I kneel beside him and I can hear him whisper through the overwhelming tears._

_“John’s dead, he's dead he's damn dead.. forgotten that he's dead…”_

_I’m unsure how long I sat there with my sobbing sibling with my arms around him tight, trying desperately to convince him that John isn't dead...something I was now really wanting to believe with all my heart. By the time I managed to help him back inside the house, Virgil confronted us in the kitchen and with one look at Gordon, he was like a bolt of lightning in his movements to retrieve his pills. As I sat Gordon down Virgil returned and I snatched the bottle and threw it with all my anger into the bin._

_“Why the hell did you do that Alan! Gordon needs -”_

_“-To remember John.” I snap, my head I swear revolving around on its own accord like a whip. “If anyone gives him another fucking pill I'll strangle them personally myself! Don't you damn DARE turn Gordon’s emotions and memories off again, otherwise YOU'RE going to be the one scraping his brains up off the floor.”_

_Virgil looked at me like an animal frozen in headlights._

_“You heard me!” I growled, shoving passed the gaping maw to go and sit with our shaking sibling and wrap my arms around him. “It's ok Gordon...it's going to be ok. We'll find him I promise.”_


End file.
